Merely Weapons
by slothchild
Summary: They think we are merely tools, weapons of mass destruction. We have voices, silent ones. We have feelings...but, it does not matter. All we can do is watch, watch their demise, and ours...Would you care to join us?


_**The things I see…**_

_They are very interesting._

_And by they, I mean the new Xiaolin Dragons-in-training._

_And by interesting, I mean entertaining to watch…_

_Oh, Dashi…if you could see them now._

_**xxx Eye of Dashi

* * *

**_

He sits childishly annoyed in a deformed fetal position, the one called Raimundo.

His arms wrap around his legs, twining them together for they are angled in such a fashion that it was as if he was ready to switch to a meditation stance.

He growled impatiently, "Is she always this slow?" His voice questioned as he continuously tapped his leg against his arm.

A cowboy sits beside him on the couch. I can hear flames from the fireplace crackling. It is warm in this common room the four are waiting in. Cozy, even.

Yes.

Four.

"Don't be so impatient, Rai. We barely know each other. And besides…"

The one called Clay fixes his hat.

"She's a girl. Most of 'em usually take hours…_freshening up_." He inquired whilst he quoted his words with his leather gloved fingers.

Leather…

I don't understand what it is about leather that could be so appealing to…

Humans.

The fireplace roared, wood and charcoal cooking in the air.

_Were you also this materialistically leather-bound…_

There is someone stepping on the carpet.

Heads turn.

_Dashi?_

And as if hearing me, Omi pauses beside my table. He stares at me with a Dragon Hybrid coiled around his arm. It is Dojo Kanojo Cho. How many years has it been, old friend?

_A thousand? Maybe…did you get your yoyo back?_

A second passes. He turns to his friends,

"Got bored meditating?"

"No, Raimundo."

He shakes his head softly.

"I am just curious…" The monk's voice leaks a fervent Chinese accent.

Raimundo swivels to lean against Clay. He hangs his legs over the couch's armrest, they dangle like grotesque slabs of sausages on sale in a local butcher shop.

_So rude, this little boy…yet, **he somehow reminds me of someone**…_

Outside, there is a faint chime from the wind pipes. A breeze has flaunted by.

He puts an arm on the backrest, "What's that, little dude?"

Omi blinks at him.

He turns to Clay and blinks as well.

The cowboy stares deadpan into space.

Dojo crossly examines his nails, bored out of his little, dragon mind.

"What do girls do in the bathroom?"

He apparently had taken wind of their conversation.

"Is that all, partner? Man, you sound just like a lil' kid right outta pre-k." The Dragon of Earth commented, in all honesty…with the way the little one asked them, it was so adorably naïve.

He will go far. _I know so_.

Dojo coiled along his arm even farther, "…What _do_ girls actually do in bathrooms?" He placed a claw on his chin. "Huh…you think a dragon who's lived for more than fifteen hundred years would know something that trivial."

"well," The Brazilian started cockily, "It's simple really…"

Omi's clueless frowning face immediately lit up, he ran toward Raimundo. Sitting at the bottom of the couch, gazing up like a little boy who was hearing the bestest story ever tolded. _Yes, that grammar mocking _was_ on purpose._

Raimundo flashed a wicked smile.

Everyone leaned in to listen,

He raised a finger, "Ah…"

A pause. He pondered.

The boy opened his mouth to speak.

…

He closed his mouth. Dumbfounded.

He rubbed his chin. Contemplating.

The boy opened his mouth to speak.

…

He closed his mouth. Dumbfounded.

He rubbed his chin. Contemplating.

The boy opened his mouth to speak.

…

He closed his mouth. Dumbfounded.

He rubbed his chin. Contemplating.

By then, Omi had oozed a sour grimace on to his features, a glower erupted from Clay and that oh-so-familiar look of indifference appeared on Dojo's ever scowling face once again.

The boy opened his mouth to speak.

…

He closed his mouth. Dumbfou—

"You don't know either, do you?" The dragon reprimanded, his voice all-knowing and irked.

He suddenly laughed an irritably fake chorus of unreassuring chuckles, "What? _Me_? _Not_ know something about _girls_? _Pleeeeaaaaase_!..." His laughter faltered along with the plastic expression on his face, "_Please_…"

…………………………………………………………………

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Silence can be deafening.

…………………………………………………………………

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………………………………………………

The fire laughed quietly. I wish I could laugh as well.

"…They wash…their hands?" Omi suggested.

…

"Don't we all?" Raimundo defended matter-of-factly.

Dojo nodded his head, "True, true…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Could it be…they write in their diaries?"

Dojo raised an eyebrow…dragonbrow, _whatever it was above his eyes_.

"What exactly would they write about, Raimundo?"

…

……….

………………

"…Us?"

…

All together, they spoke in unison.

"_Nah!_"

Lo and behold, the mighty masculine bond between the male brotherhood…luckily, I have no gender. I can be as I please…

_Surprised? Hmm…_**Dashi was**.

"…Make-up! They…attach their make-up…which they could do just about anywhere…" The more Omi extrapolated the extents of his suggestion, the more he lost faith in it.

Raimundo merely raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm surprised you even know what it is, baldie." He cracked, patting his head in emphasis.

Omi flinched, "It has only been three days since we've met_. I urge you not to get on my bedside_."

Clay stifled a laugh behind hid hand. Which was of no avail.

The Brazilian smirked.

Do jo neared his ear, whispering. "Pssst, Omi…I think you mean, bad side."

"Oh."

The smirk morphed into a playful little grin.

"That too, then."

He removed his hand from the youth's head.

"Yeah. Riiiight."

"I got it!" Clay blurted.

They craned their heads in his direction.

The earth dragon clapped his hands, forming a shell with his fingers. "Bulimia…?"

Raimundo shoved him with his back, scoffing, "What?" He squeaked, laughing lightly.

Omi smiled at them secretly. They certainly were getting along for people who barely knew each other.

Clay shoved him back with his side, "I reckon!"

"Umph!"

It is as if this was pre-school. Where, on the first day out on the playground, you just sit next to someone and begin to play with them like you have been best friends your entire life…

Or so I'm told. Dashi _always_ tells me everything…

"What is bulimia?"

I am, after all, his favorite among the rest of my kind. Henceforth, my proud and prestigious name. _I simply love my name._

Dojo jumps on to Clay's shoulder, "Is that when someone keeps…well, you know, refunding their meals?" Interjection was always a remarkably strong trait or habit of his.

"Yeah." Said the green-eyed teen next to him and his new transportation unit.

He, once again, swung his legs to the right, hanging them over the backrest. Which of course, left his head dangling over the edge of the couch. His spiky dark brown hair gently cascaded in mid-air.

…_I wish I had hair._

He gazed directly at the water dragon, "But I don't think Kimiko would be bulimic. It's not who she is."

…_You and me both, am I right dear, Dashi?_

Clay tips his hat.

"How do you know who she is?" He smirked suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows like a sugar-high idiot.

From his awkward position, Raimundo glared at the cowboy.

"What I mean is…well, I just don't like idiotic, superficial women who crave to be bulimic just to keep their own figures which probably won't last forever!...That's all."

"Are you saying that you do not like Kimiko?" Omi poked him in the forehead accusingly.

He twitched an eye. Yet, there was an unfamiliarly faint blush pouring on to his cheeks. Even from upside-down, you could tell he was pouting.

"No, bubba, on the contrary. He's sayin' that he does like Kimi." Clay's deep southern drawl seemed to push his taunt even further into Raimundo.

"Aw, shuddup, Texas!" He ordered as he slapped the boy who had begun a laughing fit.

"Who likes me?"

At that moment, all the laughter, all the breaths, all the dragon boogers being picked, and even all the heartbeats I sensed…

Seemed to stop. To freeze.

The boy's, and dragon's, eyes were wide with shock.

Emotions are a fickle thing. On the one hand, _they make you feel_, on the other hand,…_they make you feel_.

"Hey, are you guys just gonna keep gawking there or are we gonna grab some Wu?"

Indeed, that is where everything had started. A Shen Gong Wu had activated.

Raimundo blushed deep red for a second, for some bizarre reason, and then suddenly jumped off the couch, using his legs to pull him over the furniture.

He grabbed Dojo. "Whoa!"

"You heard the girl, get those butts in gear!"

And he darted out the door. Past a confused Kimiko, away from a snickering Clay, and far from a naïve little Omi.

She raised a brow, pointing a thumb in Raimundo's direction.

"What's Brazil's problem?"

"Ahem." Omi cleared his throat.

"Heh. Nothin' important." Clay reassured her, waving the question into obscurity.

…

Kimiko shrugged, "Whatever…" she droned as she shuffled out the room.

Clay followed.

Omi stood up, sticking his tongue out in concentration. He flicked his fingers. Summoning a small body of water from a nearby flower vase that stood on my table.

He shifted through familiar stances. I recognize these stances…they are—another time. For now, he extinguishes the fire.

The tongues die out with a pleasing crackle.

And then, he began to make his way to the others, grabbing me along as he did.

_Great Ghost of Dashi, I don't want to come…_

I just know another one of your showdowns will have to happen.

Oh well, what else shall I do for the world than to be Wu? _Mindless, emotionless, inhuman…weapons_, **Shen Gong Wu.**

…

_That third-arm sash is such a thorn in my side._

_Sashie_ better be grateful once we claim him, rather, once they claim him.

…_Dashi, dear friend. I will be exhausted tonight_. I can feel it in my gem.

* * *

_Mmmm…_


End file.
